Pride of the Pit
by Dirgesworn
Summary: War in Azeroth has ended and now dominance over the world is determined in the arena. Rated for blood and carnage R
1. Prolouge

Pride of the Pit

Prologue

Over the decades war has been a thing of the past. Even the Lich King has agreed with the peace treaty. Now chaos and destruction only exists in one place: the arena. According to the peace treaty dominance over Azeroth is given to the nation who's champion becomes victorious in the arena. Every twenty years the tournament takes place. First, all races choose their greatest champion and enters him in the arena. The tournaments last for about a month with each race pitted against each other. The only ways of victory are by either the opponent surrendering or the death of the opponent. But because pride is a great virtue in the arena, killing is the only way of victory. And because of the many deaths in the arena, the tournament is single elimination. This year everyone is awaiting the exciting new fighters that will be entering the arena. Neither warriors know who they will be fighting until the battle begins. The last twenty years belonged to the Lich King. But thanks to the treaty, the Lich King's reign is limited. The first battles of the tournament will be hosted by Lordaeron.

Every year it appears as though the real competition is between the Lich King's disciples, Night Elves, Humans, and the Orcs. And what is worse is that everyone counts out the Blood Elves. Every year the Blood Elves are the first to loss in the arena so most of the audience is in support of the other fighter. But this time things will be different. This time the Blood Elves have a new champion, a warrior who has reached beyond that which any other Blood Elf could hope to reach. I am Drekale Flamebearer, Spell Breaker for the Blood Elves, and I am that champion.


	2. Chapter 1: Blood of Battle

Pride of the Pit Chapter 1: Blood of Battle

As I walked down the dark halls, I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? Why am I here?" Every time I asked that to myself, a harsh voice came back to me saying, "It is for your brethren! It is for your pride! You are here to fight by the sword and fall by the sword!" If all this was true, then why did it feel so wrong. To fight by the sword, to fight for the pride of my people, it all seemed so honorable and worthy of respect. Ten years ago I never would have thought that I would end up here, of all places. If anything, I never wanted to see another place like this again.

I was almost five yards from the door, and my heart thumped louder and louder. I could feel it in my chest and I could hear it in my head. Sweat fell from my face and I had not even started yet. I grasped by double-bladed sword with great anxiety and my shield with great fear. All those years of training would finally pay off here and now. No more practicing and no more second chances. It was now or never.Opening the doors, the bright sun hit my face with such intense heat. Bringing my eyes back into focus, I saw the entire setting. The stands were flowing with people of all races: humans, elves (night elves and blood elves), orcs,  
trolls, merlocks, gnolls, dwarves, you name it. The roam of cheers that followed made me feel special, like I belonged. It was funny how an event that I so greatly hated would fill me with so much pride. I glanced over the arena, seeing the dirt-covered land that I would do combat on. It was as flat as a calm ocean and seemed as large as one as well.But my face turned pale when I glanced over to the other end of the field. No one had told me who my opponent would be, for it was arena tournament rules for the combatants never to know who their next opponent would be. Over on the other side of the arena, possibly weighing over five hundred pounds was a colossal ogre. He had but one head, unlike some of his other kind, and wielded a giant club that was about my size in height and twice my size in width. I saw the fire in his eyes and if I hadn't been so frightened I would have seen the blood trickling down from his mouth. His hands glowed fiery red. This ogre must of been an ogre magi, for he had cast the spell Bloodlust upon himself.I felt some hope for I was an elvish spellbreaker, a master of stealing magic of all kinds, including Bloodlust. But that didn't change the fact that this monster was three times my height. The ogre looked toward the stands, and I followed his eyes. All were gazing upon the host of the arena battle, a dwarf mountain king by the name of Murriod. Murriod stood looked at the ogre and then me. Lifting his hands, he announced, "Let the tournament begin!"I looked back at the ogre, but he was no where to be seen. Glancing around frantically, I finally saw the massive beast... about three feet in front of me and two hundred feet above me. With his awesome strength he had jumped over the entire battlefield and landed right in front of me. Lifting his club high above his head, he spoke with his goofy ogre accent, "Die you little bug!" In a panic I jumped away just in time to avoid his fatal blow. Looking back I noticed his club was stuck in the ground, unable to pull out. Will he was busy with his club, I quickly spoke, "Handu Falla!" I saw and felt the red energy engulfing the ogre's fists fly out of his hands and come into mine.It was then that I snapped. Something deep inside me just gave way, like a darker more sinister side of me that had been struggling for freedom had finally made it out. The passion of battle filled my soul and I felt the red hot intensity of blood and carnage flow through my veins. I had not noticed that I had also increased in size by twofold, making me the same size as the ogre, of whom decreased in size having lost the Bloodlust cast upon him.  
"Uh oh..." panicked the ogre as I swung my twin blades at him. His arm fell to the ground, severed and unattached to his body. The ogre wailed in pain and flung himself at me, thinking of somehow hindering me in that way. The crowds cheered and roared as he came at me. But then the crowd fell silent, for the ogre froze. Finally I realized that my blade was not positioned where it was when I cut off his arm, having been a up-down slice. At this point my blade was on the other side of the ogre, at was coated in blood. I looked back at the ogre, and his face was frozen as well. After a few more seconds his head slid off his neck and both his relinquished head and his body fell to the ground, dead. I looked back at Murriod and he looked back at me, giving me a nod. Murriod stood up, and the crowds awaited anxiously.

"The winner!" Murriod finally announced.

The crowds went wild with glee and excitement and I could not help but smile. I felt the Bloodlust leaving me, and my size and sense of reality returning to normal. Then I felt cold inside, seeing I had slain a living being. The crowds were happy and joyous, but I was not. If it was such a victory for the blood elves, then why did I feel like I such a defeat. All I knew for sure was that if I make it out of this tournament alive, I will never do such a thing ever again. But until then I will fight and die with the sword, from the sword, and by the sword. I swear to it as an elf and as a living being.

As I entered the lobby at the exit of the grand structure that was the arena, I was suddenly hailed by roars of cheering elves. It then dawned on me that no other blood elf has ever survived the first round. Flowers and coins were given to me as gifts to my victory and what might be the come back of the blood elves. But as so as I was away from the crowd in a dark ally, I came across Kael, my mentor and ally."How was it." he asked."I cannot describe it, master." said I."Did you enjoy the fierce struggle of combat, the bloody carnage of battle?" he asked.I nodded."But once you saw your slain foe" he continued. "You were consumed with grief and sorrow."Again I nodded."Which do you think is worth it? The passion or the pain?" he asked."I will tell you this much, master Kael." I said to him. "I will continue to fight for my people's pride. But once this entire tournament is done with I wish never to hear of battle again.""Fair enough. Exactly as it should be. You shall soon know the true gift and curse of the warrior. Here, take this."From his crimson cloak he revealed an orb. Within the orb I could see intense fire and flame. I had read of these objects, known as Orbs of Fire. But this one particular orb was marked with a phoenix's talon, the symbol of the blood mage."Within this orb lies the power of the blood mage." said Kael. "Once imbued with its magics you will be gifted with all the abilities of a blood mage. This will be useful to you.""Thank you." I said, taking the orb from him gratefully. "I will be sure to use it with great honor."The orb then vanished from my grip in a burst of fire. I felt heat rush through my body and knew that I was fused with the might of the blood mage. Perhaps I would stand a chance in this tournament after all. If I play my cards right, I may be able to lead a normal life and never have to deal with fighting or war ever again. 


	3. Chapter 2: Menace of the Machine

Pride of the Pit

Chapter 2: Menace of the Machine

Once again I found myself pondering why I am here. I had almost forgotten the passion and lust of battle. I felt like it was a part of me now. The more I denied my hidden desire, the more I wanted more of it. My soul fought for dominance over myself. Should I continue to fight and either die a warrior or rise victorious at the cost of many lives, or desert my people and become an outcast to my race and many others so that my conscience remain pure? All this raced through my mind like a stream of water. Eventually I decided to sleep on it. But now was also not a time for sleeping. I could hear the crowds, calling out to me, calling my name. And as I entered the arena once more, the people roared and lauded at my coming. I realized that it was the praise and glory that kept me going, that kept me from turning from this life and making my exodus of this place.

I looked upward toward the host's stand. This time the famed Beastmaster Rexxar was hosting the fight at his arena in the area of the Ogre clan that he conquered by slaying their warlord. The arena seemed different in that it was more made of rock and boulder than of stone. To me it looked unstable, but I had some faith in the Gladiator Council. Like last and possibly every time from that point on I knew not the name or the race of my opponent. But my question was answered when my foe made his way onto the battleground. A clanking sound came from the corridors he emerged from and then the noise came from himself. At first I thought it was a machine of some sort, but the little body at the controls of the machine and the immense applause from the Goblin portion of the crowd swayed me otherwise.

It was a Goblin. To be more specific in battling classes, a Goblin 'Tinker'. He wore a flat helmet on his head and from his backpack emerged two deadly looking steel claws. He giggled and snickered at me as we approached each other in the center and await Rexxar's signal. We looked up, and thus Rexxar began."Combatants, you enter this arena, each having won one fight." he began.  
"But by this coming twilight it will be a second victory for another and the first lose for the other. One will emerge triumphant and the other dead. I wish you both a clean fight. You may begin!"And so I assaulted the little Goblin with my twin-blade. It was soon countered, however, with one of his mighty claws. With the other he took my blade from me and used it as a projectile to the other side of the arena. I then had to combat the two incoming claws with my own two hands, each blow making me weaker and weaker. I was battle-scarred and very much wounded.

"Hehehe." chuckled the Goblin. "Little elf, little elf, what are you gonna do? What are you gonna do when I come slay you!?"

He attempted to hit me with both his claws at once and I caught each with one hand. It was now a game: who will hold out longer? My muscles were tired and my vision grew fainter. The Goblin crowds lauded and praised as I was becoming the underdog of the fight. It was not until I was down on my knees that something in me snapped.The rush of power came to me suddenly and without provocation; or did it? I had felt this once before. The power, the strength, the bloodlust. The 'bloodlust'! It was clear to me now. I was under the Bloodlust spell, but how? There was no time to think of an explanation as my intelligence left me and all I could think about was to fight, hinder, and kill all who opposed me. And at that moment, that annoying Goblin was my opponent, and for some reason or another I wanted to see his head on one of my blade's tip.My size grew larger and my hands glowed red with rage. I then ripped (more like tore and mutilated) the two claws that once held me down. I threw then far and then went for the Goblin's head. But the Goblin backed away and revealed a cylinder. He lifted the lid of the cylinder and out came thousands of bullet-shaped objects coming at me at a dangerously alarming rate. As each hit me they exploded, one after another. Soon there was a cloud of smoke from where I stood, and the Goblin continued to laugh. But his laughter soon turned into squeaking cries for help as I emerged unscathed and grabbed his head. I then jettisoned the puny Goblin across the arena. All gave an applause with great joy.The tiny, machine-less Goblin surprisingly stood up, but filled with fatigue. But my thinking he was machine-less was quite wrong. For from his backpack erupted a series of mechanical parts that then engulfed and surrounded the Goblin. I then stood before an incredibly large machine with arms armed with a buzz saw and a hammer. It was twice my size and its shadow cast over me."What are you gonna do now, little elf?" snickered the Goblin. "Are you gonna cast some sort of spell on me? Hahahaha!""Well, I was going to smack you around and pulverize you." said I. "But your idea seems much better."I then made motions with my hands and soon an ethereal mist covered the gigantic machine."What are you doing? My robot is impervious to magic!" wailed the Goblin."I'm not hitting the robot, you stupid Goblin!" I exclaimed.The mist arose to the passenger seat of the Goblin and he jumped out of the robot in a great state of panic. But it was too late. The Goblin was now enshrouded in ethereal and looked a ghastly green. I then reached my hands out to him and shouted, "Flaming Strike!" In an instant a circle of green appeared the ground beneath the Goblin and made a strange noise. The Goblin attempted to run, but because he was now ethereal his movement would only rival that of a snail. Before he could reach two feet he was engulfed and consumed by flaming pillars of chaotic and destructive fire. When the flames settled there was nothing left but his skeleton. The Bloodlust then disappeared and my stature was returned to normal. The audience (except the Goblins) cheered and praised my victory. Rexxar also gave a satisfying nod and I left the arena in one piece.I still did not know how or why I received Bloodlust when I did. I had not stolen it from him and I certainly did not know the spell myself. Or did I? In either case, I immediately looked for Kael that he may answer by plight. 


End file.
